by Linda Reilly
“Anyways, once we got home I warned her to keep her mouth shut and watch TV. My … I mean, Donny, my friend, ended up spending the night,” she said, “so I let Ria sleep on the sofa.” Her face colored.
Let her sleep on the sofa? More like forced her to, Talia wanted to blurt out. She would’ve bet her Fiat it hadn’t been the first time little Ria had been relegated to sleeping alone in the living room.
Anita’s face suddenly changed—a twinge of guilt maybe?—and the lines around her eyes deepened. “I heard her crying in the night, poor little kid,” she went on, a bit more softly. “But I couldn’t go out to see what was wrong because I would’ve woken up Donny, and he had to go to work real early the next morning.”
Talia felt her entire body stiffen. What a pathetic excuse for a mother Anita had been.
Princess obviously felt Talia’s distress. She jumped off Talia’s lap, opting instead to leap onto the sofa and curl up against her jacket.
Anita didn’t seem to notice. “Couple days later, a report came on the TV about a woman who went missing. She was eighteen or nineteen, I think, a local girl. Went out with her boyfriend that Friday night and never came home.” She blew out a breath. “When they flashed the girl’s picture on the TV, Ria started to go nuts. Kept insisting the dragon took the girl, and that I had to find the dragon.” Anita snatched another cookie—a Santa face—from the bakery box. The kitty’s ears perked and she padded over to investigate the sugary treat. Anita shoved her aside with her forearm. “Get away, cat. Leave my cookie alone.”
Princess sat upright in a regal stance and regarded Anita with her cool blue gaze.
“Did you think she might have seen something?” Talia asked, hoping to distract Anita from the cat. “Did you go to the police?”
Anita made a face. “Course not! What was I going to tell them? That my crazy little girl said a dragon took that woman?”
Crazy little girl. The words struck like arrows to the heart. The more Anita went on with the story, the better Talia understood the simmering anger that had influenced Ria’s actions.
It was clear that Ria had always played second fiddle in her mother’s life. Second to whatever man happened to catch Anita’s fancy, or maybe it was the other way around. Talia suspected Anita hadn’t been very discerning in her choice of suitors.
Nonetheless, Talia knew that if she had any hope of making sense of the dragon, she would have to squelch her distaste for Anita and encourage her to spill the whole story. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed with feigned sympathy at the woman. “Did you try talking to her?” she said gently. “Wasn’t it possible that Ria might have seen something that night that could’ve helped the police?”
“Course I tried,” Anita said defensively. “But all she did was draw pictures of the dragon, over and over again. The pictures were cartoonish, childish. Didn’t look much like a dragon at all. Not to me anyway. Aren’t dragons supposed to have wings?”
“I … I’m not sure,” Talia said. She thought back to all the images of dragons she’d seen, but she couldn’t recall if she’d ever noticed any wings. “Did she draw the pictures with crayons?”
“No, she didn’t have any crayons, not after she pulled a hissy one day and broke them all. I refused to buy her any more after that.” Anita snorted. “Besides, the kid was no artist. Bad enough she went through a whole pad of my paper making pencil sketches of that stupid imaginary dragon. When she asked for another pad, I told her to can it with the dragon. I found out later she was saving all her pictures. She stuffed them in an empty oatmeal box and hid it in the back of the coat closet. There was something else she’d saved in there, too, but I can’t remember what it was.” She bit off half of Santa’s face and chomped on it.
All at once, something struck Talia. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the engraving on Will Claiborne’s jade ring—a two-headed snake coiled around the stem of a tulip. Could Ria have thought that was a dragon? But that didn’t make sense, did it? Will’s ring was new. It wasn’t likely Ria would have seen his family crest anywhere else.
“Did the missing woman ever turn up?” Talia asked, wanting to push Anita along a bit faster.
Anita grew quiet. “Yeah, she sure did. A few months later, close to Thanksgiving, a couple of hunters found her in the woods. Poor girl had been dead all that time …” Her gaze lost its focus, her words drifting to a bare whisper.
The dragon killed her. The thought came automatically, as if Talia had known it all along. “Did the police figure out who did it?” Her voice came out wobbly.
Anita uncrossed her legs, and then crossed them again the other way. “Yeah, it ended up being a no-brainer. The cops had been looking at her boyfriend all along—a guy named Kyle something or other—but he swore he hadn’t seen her that night. A buddy of his backed up his story, so he figured he was golden.” She guffawed. “Well, that alibi got blown out of the water when they found evidence of him, you know … having relations with the girl. He changed his tune after that. He admitted he had been with her, but he claimed they’d fought afterward and he dropped her off a couple of blocks from her folks’ house.” She paused and looked at Talia. “You sure you don’t want something to drink?”
“Actually, a glass of water would be nice,” Talia said. “I’m feeling a little dry.”
Anita hopped off the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen. Talia quickly jumped off her chair and scooped up Princess. “Come sit with me,” she whispered. “I’m going to find you a home where people will appreciate you, okay?” She kissed the cat’s forehead and reclaimed her seat in the rickety rocker.
Anita returned with a plastic cup filled with water. She scowled when she saw Princess in Talia’s lap again. “I hope tap water’s okay. The bottled stuff’s too expensive.”
“It’s fine,” Talia said, and took a long sip. “So what happened to that Kyle fellow? Did he get convicted?”
“Yup. Still doing time, as far as I know. Judge gave him life without parole.”
“Did Ria ever mention the dragon again?”
“No,” Anita huffed, “and she was still guarding those sketches like they were made of freaking gold. One day when she was at school, I went into the closet where she’d stashed them. I was going to throw them in the trash, get rid of them once and for all. But they were gone. Either she’d tossed them out herself or moved them to a better hiding place. She was clever that way.” Her gaze softened, and a wistful look crossed her face.
Talia was willing to bet Ria had never thrown out the sketches. Was it possible she might have kept them all these years? Maybe squirreled them away in another secret hiding place?
“Funny thing is,” Anita said with a rueful smile, “I don’t think she threw them away. I think she took them with her when we moved to Wrensdale. Remember the house we were living in when Ria stole the rabbit? The two-story on Hampton Avenue?”
“I remember,” Talia said, her mind wanting to shut out that awful day.
“Well, this one day I kept calling and calling her and she wasn’t answering me. I was furious. Tired from work and in no mood. Anyways, I caught her sneaking out of her closet with this guilty look on her face. What’s the kid up to? I wondered. She wouldn’t say anything, so I sent her to bed early with no television. The next day I searched the closet but I couldn’t find anything. Whatever she hid there, she hid it good.” Anita’s eyes filled with tears. “I shouldn’t’ve gotten so mad at her the way I did.” She snuffled and pressed her tissue to her eyes again.
In spite of Anita’s rough ways, Talia’s couldn’t help feeling bad for her. “You miss her, don’t you?”
She sniffled. “Of course I do! I wish I could tell her how sorry I am for some of things I did when she was growing up. All those times I ignored her, or left her alone. If I did that today, the cops would haul me away in cuffs, wouldn’t they?” She sucked in a noisy sob.
Probably, Talia thought, but didn’t voice it. “I’m sure Ria knew you loved he
r,” she said, her voice sounding flat even to her own ears. “So when was it that you and Ria moved to Wrensdale?”
Anita thought for a moment. “Actually, it wasn’t too long after that Kyle guy got convicted for the girl’s murder. Donny and me had started seeing each other again. When he got the chance to take a construction job in Wrensdale, him and me and Ria all moved into an apartment there.” She frowned. “It didn’t last long. He found someone else and moved out a few months later, leaving me stuck with the lease. Creep. Ria and me finally moved to a cheaper apartment in Pittsfield. It wasn’t as nice, but I least I could make the rent.” She shook her head sadly.
Talia sighed. Anita’s life certainly hadn’t been a bed of daisies. Maybe her search for a man had been more about finding a provider for her and her daughter than snagging a companion for herself. She decided to cut her a little slack and stop being so judgmental.
But she couldn’t get the dragon out of her head.
“Anita, I know this might sound strange, but did the dragon look anything like a snake? Maybe a two-headed snake?”
Anita frowned. “No, I don’t think so. Tell you the truth, it didn’t look much like a dragon, either. I guess I’m not sure what it looked like. Like I said, Ria was no artist. What are you getting at?”
Talia hesitated. If she described Will’s family crest, would Anita keep it to herself, or would she go blabbing Talia’s suspicions to Will?
She decided not to say anything, at least not yet. She had trouble believing Will was even capable of harming Ria. His wife, Liliana, was another matter …
“Hey, I gotta ask you something,” Anita said suddenly. “Would you mind if I showed you Ria’s room?”
“Not at all,” Talia said. “I would love to see it.”
She set Princess gently on the cushion of the rocker and followed Anita up a carpeted staircase. Ria’s room was on the left side of a narrow hallway, opposite the full bath.
“I kept everything just like she left it,” Anita said, pushing the door open. She pulled a crumpled tissue from the pocket of her velour pants and squashed it against her eyes.
Talia was stunned at the contrast between Ria’s bedroom and the rest of the drab unit. The walls had been papered in a Victorian print of tiny pink roses. The double bed frame was cast iron, painted white in a distressed style, with a heart-shaped scroll at the head. The spread itself was white chenille, the lacy pillow shams a shade of pink that complemented the wallpaper beautifully. A tall, distressed white bureau graced the opposite wall. Atop the bureau was a vintage vase filled with dried pink hydrangeas.
“Oh my, what a lovely room,” Talia breathed. “So feminine and tasteful.”
Anita spied Princess peeking at them through the doorway, and immediately closed the door. “That cat’s been itching to come in here,” she said testily, “but I’ve been keeping her out. I don’t want cat hair all over Ria’s bed.” Her tone immediately softened. “Ria was a good decorator, wasn’t she?”
She was a fabulous decorator, Talia thought. No wonder she opened a vintage clothing store. Clearly it was her passion. “Yes, and it’s immaculate, too. Ria was obviously a neatnik.”
Anita’s expression darkened. “Not as much as you think,” she said, and gave a slight shudder. “That’s what I wanted to show you. See that nightie on the pillowcase?”
Talia glanced at the frilly pink nightdress that had been folded carefully atop one of the plump pink pillows. “Yes, it’s pretty.”
“Well, Ria didn’t leave it like that. I know she didn’t. She always used to toss it on the bed when she got dressed in the morning and leave it there in a heap.”
Talia swiveled and looked at Anita. “Are you saying … you think someone else was in here?”
“I’m saying I know someone else was in here. Whoever it was must’ve broken in last night when I was out to dinner with Ralphie. When I got home, that nightie was folded just like that.” She rubbed the arms of her velour top. “And I know Ria didn’t leave it that way.”
Talia felt a shiver race through her. If Anita was right, then someone must have been in here, looking for something. “Was anything taken? Are you missing anything?”
Anita slowly shook her head. “Not that I could tell. Far as I could see, the rest of the house was untouched.” She went over to Ria’s closet and opened the door. A slew of dresses, blouses, and slacks were lined up neatly across the metal rack. “See how everything is hanging so tidy?” Anita said. “Well, I know for a fact Ria didn’t leave it this way. She used to jam things in where they didn’t fit. Sometimes it looked like a clown closet.” She gave out a bittersweet laugh.
A bad feeling was beginning to crawl over Talia. She wondered if the intruder had been the person she and Kelsey had heard closing the slider in the back the night before.
One thing she knew for sure. Whoever broke into Anita’s duplex hadn’t been there just to straighten up. “Anita, you reported this to the police, right?”
“Yeah, for all the good it did,” she said gruffly. “Two uniformed cops came over, looked around for barely ten minutes, took some half-baked notes, and then left. They acted like I was nuts for reporting a room that was too neat.” She closed the closet door quietly.
“How do you think the intruder got in?” Talia asked her.
Anita rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, Mr. Bay at the funeral home warned me about keeping my doors locked. Problem is, the lock on the sliding door out back doesn’t catch right anymore. A five-year-old could’ve jimmied it open. The two cops looked at it but didn’t see anything out of place.” Her jaw tightened. “I could tell they didn’t believe a word of what I was saying.”
“I believe you,” Talia said. “If you don’t mind, Anita, I’m going to mention this to Detective Prescott.”
Anita shrugged. “Be my guest. I guess I should have thought to call either her or that O’Donnell guy at the state police, but I figured the cops who showed up would know enough to report it.”
Talia agreed. They should have known enough to do that. “Anita, I’m not sure you should be staying here alone until, you know … the police figure out who did this.” She heard the tremor in her own voice, and realized she was frightened for Anita.
“Don’t worry.” Anita flushed slightly. “Ralphie’s coming over after he takes his mother home from bingo. He doesn’t like me staying alone, either.”
Well, score one for Ralphie, Talia thought. Maybe he had more sense than she gave him credit for.
When Talia was leaving, she gave Anita an impulsive hug. Maybe the woman hadn’t been the best mother, but not having walked in her shoes, she didn’t have any right to judge.
Anita seemed pleased by the gesture, if a tad embarrassed. “Hey, thanks for the cookies,” she said, her eyes filling again.
“You’re welcome.” Talia paused, wondering whether or not she should mention Princess. She decided she had nothing to lose. “Anita, if Princess is too much for you to cope with right now, I know a family that would love to have her. You wouldn’t have to worry about her, and they’d give her a great home. All you have to do is let me know, okay?” She didn’t mention Kelsey’s name, since she wasn’t sure how Anita felt about her.
Anita’s eyes widened as if she favored the idea, but then she heaved out a sigh. “Yeah, problem is, she was Ria’s cat, you know? I’d feel awful guilty if I gave her away.”
“That’s okay. You can think about it anyway. I know Ria would want Princess to have the best home possible.”
There. She’d planted the seed. Maybe after Anita thought it over, she would do the right thing.
15
As soon as Talia settled herself in her car, she locked her doors, pulled out her phone, and punched in the number for Detective Prescott. Her call went straight to voice mail, so she left a message for the detective to call her as soon as possible. “It’s fairly urgent,” she told her, “and it’s about Ria’s murder.”
The more she thought about Anit
a’s intruder, the more it made the hair on her arms prickle. Straightening Ria’s closet, folding her nightie on the pillow? In Talia’s view, it had all the earmarks of a stalker. And when she thought of a stalker, her thoughts went immediately to Andy Nash.
That was another thing. Didn’t the detective confirm that Andy’s other job was working for a car dealership? If he’d wanted to switch his car for another vehicle—like maybe a truck?—he was working in the ideal business.
The short ride back to her bungalow seemed darker than ever, the moon half hidden by clusters of clouds. The calendar was creeping toward the shortest day of the year, and snow was predicted for early the following week. If she were a skier, like her dad, she’d welcome the onset of winter in the Berkshires. Depending on conditions, her dad would be spending most of his weekends either at Jiminy Peak or Bousquet Mountain, conquering the slopes with the skill of the athlete he’d been in his youth.
Talia, unfortunately, didn’t have a single athletic gene spiraling through her DNA. For her, yoga was about the extent of her exercise program, and she practiced that only sporadically. Ever since she’d returned to Wrensdale in September, she’d been spending so much time in the fish and chips shop that she didn’t have time for much else. One of these mornings she was going to awaken to find that she’d sprouted gills overnight.
She pulled into her driveway, struck by how stark her bungalow looked compared to the other homes on the street. Vicki and Grace, the couple who lived a few houses away, had strung tiny blue lights around each of their windows. Their gorgeous tree, the tip of which kissed the ceiling of their living room, sparkled red and blue and silver through the bay window. Across the street, even old Mrs. Polerski had hung a massive evergreen wreath on her front door. Its bright red bow was nearly as big as she was.
